‘You brought Ava!’ she said in delight. ‘I missed her so much.’
‘Well, I thought that if I could not persuade you to come back with me, then maybe this would clinch it.’ Léo grinned.
‘You would have been spot on,’ said Juliet, beaming back at him, ‘but, lucky me, I get both of you.’
As they drove up to the house Juliet felt that she was quenching a long-held thirst with a cool glass of pure water. The roof still looked terrible, the lawn needed mowing and her phone, now switched back on, was struggling to find any reception, but she was home. They walked around the side of the house to the cookery school and upstairs, where her little rooms waited, as light-bathed and serene as ever.
‘Shall I put the kettle on?’ she asked, putting down her bags and filling a bowl of water for Ava.
‘Maybe in a little while,’ replied Léo, reaching for her, and she gladly fell into his arms.
THIRTY-TWO
TEN MONTHS LATER
The August morning was hazy and golden as Juliet swished open the heavy curtains from the large bedroom window. She used her little flat above the cookery school exclusively as a studio now and had moved into the house permanently, sharing Léo’s large suite in the new wing.
‘Today’s the day,’ she said, scooping up Ava, who had jumped off the big bed where Léo was now sitting up, and bustled over to Juliet, ready for her breakfast. ‘It feels kind of unreal that we’re finally sending that cookery book out into the world.’
‘Indeed. I think it will all go very well; the book is so beautiful, thanks to your photos and drawings. Are you looking forward to it?’
‘I am. There’ll be a few London faces I haven’t seen for a while, but that’s cool. How about you? Are you feeling okay about the publicity?’
‘Finally, yes. At least this is work, and I’ve got used to my face being out there a bit more thanks to that Instagram page of Sylvia’s.’
Juliet laughed.
‘It really took off, didn’t it? She seems to have some innate knack for social media that none of the rest of us do. Did I tell you she was helping me set up my own page for my flower art?’
‘She’s amazing. I just hope today isn’t too taxing for her.’
‘She’ll let us know if it is, but I think she’s doing really well, isn’t she?’
A note of worry crept into Juliet’s voice. Although her aunt had been coping well through the treatment and now beyond, she knew she wasn’t yet out of the woods. She was beginning to understand why her mother had jeopardised Feywood’s future for her own treatment; when it came to it, you felt as if you’d pay for anything that promised results.
Léo got out of bed and put his arm around Juliet.
‘She’s doing great,’ he said, kissing her and then Ava, so she didn’t feel left out. ‘Come on, we’d better get some breakfast before the circus begins.’
It wasn’t long before everything started arriving, reminding Juliet vividly of the day of her mother’s memorial, which had been very similar with chairs, tables and awnings being traipsed through the house, although this time she hoped that Toby wouldn’t be joining them. His final communication to her had been an actual letter a couple of months after she left London, detailing all her faults and breaking the news that he never wanted to see her again, so please could she leave him alone from now on?
‘Gladly,’ she had said, and threw the missive onto the fire.
‘Are yousurethey’re bringing champagne glasses?’ asked Martha for the third time, as she passed Juliet making a neat display of the lovely books.
‘They definitely are,’ said Juliet, grimly hoping that she had, in fact, remembered to ask the catering company to include them.
‘And thank goodness for this beautiful weather,’ continued her sister. ‘It would have been a shame to have had this indoors.’
‘Yes, especially given the state of the place. Do you know when Dad’s going to get going on the roof?’
‘Soon, he says. I think now that he’s regularly putting away enough money the bank has backed off. But you know Dad, he gets distracted.’
Juliet laughed.
‘Seems to run in the family!’
‘Do you mind? Oh dear, maybe I should have spoken to him, got him to get going on it more quickly…’
